Tell Me Your Story 3

Mommys Closet

Mommy’s Closet is a creepy poem written by a member of this website who goes by the name of Shadow_of_Darkness. The photograph below is by Joshua Hoffine.

Mommy's Closet

In Mommy’s closet, I hear creaks.
In Mommy’s closet, I hear shrieks.
In Mommy’s closet, I don’t go.
In Mommy’s closet? No, no, no.

“What’s in the closet?”, I ask in fear.
Mommy chuckles, “Nothing, Dear!”
I will wait until the night,
When I face my biggest fright.

Terrible thoughts swirl in my head
Mommy’s closet fills me with dread.
One dark night I decide to go.
What’s in the closet? I want to know!

So when night falls I creep in
To Mommy’s bedroom with a grin,
Sneak past Mommy and Daddy’s room,
And down the corridor into the gloom.

I open the door, just a tiny crack.
A cold wind howls and pushes me back.
I twist the knob. I can’t stop now!
Inside I step, and I whisper, “Wow.”

In Mommy’s closet, there are creaks.
In Mommy’s closet, there are shrieks.
I look and see, there’s a scary cliff!
My eyes grow big and my limbs go stiff.

Shadows, darkness, screaming too,
I always thought that ghosts said, “Boo!”
But no they don’t, they scream in pain,
Black, sticky goo starts to fall like rain.

I cross a bridge, it’s creaky and old.
There’s a sea of fire that’s red and gold.
Metal gates form a big black “H”,
All this flame makes my little eyes ache.

A little girl says, “Give me your soul!”
She claws at my heart, and falls into a hole.
The people behind the gate have glowing red eyes,
Everything’s red, even the skies.

A scary old man lurking within,
Asks me if he can take my skin.
“No!”, I cry when I see his knife.
“OK, then I’ll take your life!”

“Just let me go!”, I snap, “Right now!”
The gate opens up, and to go back, I vow.
But I don’t get the chance, the crowd swallows me up,
They take me in like a crumb in a cup.

A lady picks me up, takes me to her home,
Where she locks me up in a big glass dome.
“Give me your soul”, she says, “Or give me your blood.”
“Neither!”, I say, and suddenly there’s a flood.

When I wake up again and start to scream.
The old woman’s knife, its silver blade gleams.
“You are a bad boy”, she says with a grin.
Suddenly, I scream, and my arm’s been skinned.

The old woman chews it, “Yum”, she said.
“Tastes good alive but better dead!”
I run away fast, but a scary man gets me.
“Your eyes are fresh, plump and fleshy!”

He drags me away, I scream, “Help! Help!”
But no one comes, so I cease to yelp.
He ties me up, picks out my left eye.
Invites me to dinner, a soup of eyes!

“Yes”, he says, “You must stay.”
“I don’t want to!” I want to get my way!
So he pushes me out, I’m weak and hurt.
A family catches me. They rip off my shirt.

“Your flesh looks tasty”, a pretty dead girl said.
“No!”, I say. “I don’t want to be dead!”
But they rip off my skin, on the chest, oh yuck!
They’ve crippled me, I have no luck.

They shove me out, a lady takes my foot bone.
Another man takes my vocal tone.
They make blankets of veins, clothes out of hair.
For two sad days I love in despair.

In Mommy’s closet, I hear creaks.
In Mommy’s closet, I hear shrieks.
Now I’m dead, I know, all too well,
Mommy’s closet is the gate to hell.

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